


The Secrets Kept Under Jon's Sheets

by UniverseColdandLoveless



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, First Time, Insecure Jon, Jon actually wants Robb, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Probably incest some time soon, Rutting, Sweet Theon, We'll see what happens - Freeform, What am I doing?, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:33:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseColdandLoveless/pseuds/UniverseColdandLoveless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon couldn’t tell if it was the wine, the fact that they were hidden from the rest of the world, or that it seemed the right thing to do. Or maybe, it simply was that deep down he had always wanted this, but was too divided by his hatred for Theon to ever voice it. Yet suddenly he found himself on top of the Ironborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jon woke up, he sat up and moved to the edge of his bed, the shutters were open and the night was chilly, he hugged his bare chest and looked around the dimly lit room. He was oddly aware of his surroundings, the fur under his feet, the cold embers by the hearth, the moonlight shining through the window. He took a couple of shaky breaths and waited for his heart rate to slow down.

This time the dream had been so real, he had felt his body pressed against his, the hungry kisses, his hands tangled on his dark curls, their entwined legs, he had heard the moans and his name on his lips. His name on Robb’s lips. He laid back down and tugged the covers closer, the dreams had been getting more frequent, this was the third one this week and he knew they would just keep coming.

Jon ran his hands over the bedspread, he felt hopeless. Even if he decided to tell his brother how he was feeling, Robb would never reciprocate, he was overly obsessed with honor and his perfect little lordling role. And even if it wasn’t appalling for two men to be paramours it would still be unthinkable for two siblings to maintain such a relationship. But the real impediment was that Robb didn’t desire him, and that was something he wasn’t able to change. And sadder still was the fact that Jon knew this wasn’t only lust. This was something else.

..........

Robb hit him hard with the blunted edge of the sword. Jon recoiled, blinking away the dark spots before his eyes. He had a bothersome headache, not strong enough as to keep him from practicing, not little enough to just ignore it until it went away. He knew it had something to do with his lack of sleep and the fact that he had been kicked again and again all morning long. He was hit again, this time in the belly, so hard the air was knocked out of his lungs.

Ser Rodrik shook his head from the spot where he was watching. “Alright, we are done for today” He yelled at the boys, even though it was only mid-morning and the practice hadn’t lasted two hours full.

Jon left the practice yard and walked into the armory, he took off the practice armor and hung the blunted sword. His whole body was sore and full of bruises, it might be a good idea to take a dip in the steaming pools by the godswood.

Once in in the castle’s woods he undressed and entered the pool closest to the heart tree, for some reason it had always been his favorite. The warm water relaxed his muscles, they were still sore, but it was a nice kind of sore. Little rays of light shone thru the leaves above, were hidden birds chirped in the morning air. Jon liked to be alone under the cool canopy of the trees, it gave him time to think, usually about Robb. But not today, his head had been too filled with Robb lately, now he just wanted to lay back and relax.

He really needed this little break. Later today the Tullys were arriving from Riverrun and it had been a while since Lady Stark had last seen her family. Jon was too young to remember, but he knew that the only time Lord Hoster had been in Winterfell he had been locked away in the nursery most of the time. He wasn’t sure how Catelyn was going to manage it, but he realized that she would do the impossible to keep him away from her family.

A cool breeze blew through the forest, Jon took a deep breath. It smelled earthy and warm, like the woods after light rain. Somehow, it was both foreign and comforting at once. Jon gathered courage and exited the pool, he wished he could stay here forever, under the shade of the weirwood, soaking in the waters of the pools that had warmed the ancestral seat of House Stark for centuries.

He left the godswood with a feeling of dread. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing the lords of Riverrun.

..........

Dusk was gathering in the west when Lord Hoster Tully’s entourage arrived. Jon had been waiting in the battlements when the blue-and-red of the banners of Riverrun appeared in the horizon. He stood there, among the crenels, the wind whipping at his face, watching as the long column of people crossed the fields that surrounded Winterfell and entered through the main gate. He watched as the Stark family greeted the new arrivals in the courtyard, and then escorted them to the guest house. Once installed, the Starks left the Tullys to go get ready for the feast, and Jon descended to do so too.

Once on ground level he walked to the Great Keep, nodding politely at everyone he passed. Most of Lord Hoster’s entourage had camped outside Winterfell’s walls, the rest of it in the courtyard and important members of the household were accommodated in the guest house with the visiting Tullys. He walked faster. Even though it still was summer the evenings in the north were usually cold, and he was lightly dressed.

Entering the Great Keep he literally ran into Robb, who wasn’t ready yet.

“Hi” mumbled Jon. Robb looked at him, a silent accusation behind his eyes.

“Hey” answered Robb. Jon had been avoiding Robb for almost three whole weeks, everywhere he could. During this time, they had grown further apart than ever. And the more distanced Robb and Jon got, the closest Robb got to Theon.

Jon averted his eyes, nodded at his brother and kept going.

……….

The Great Hall of Winterfell rang with the sound of a hundred drunken conversations, the clangor of plates and cups and the roar of the fire, somewhere far off a singer was playing a high harp but Jon could scarcely hear him above all the noise. He was seated far from the raised platform were Lord Eddard, Lady Catelyn and his half-siblings were hoisting the lords of Riverrun, all around him younger squires were sharing stories about battle and bedding and hunting. They didn’t make bad company and it was nice to have a break from the Stark children now and then. Jon emptied another cup of wine, he was feeling dizzy and his eyes itched from the smoke that hung heavy in the air, he stood up, grabbed a flask of wine from one of the passing servants and decided to go outside for a little fresh air.

He wandered around Winterfell for a while and found himself in the Glass Gardens of the great castle, the winter roses were in full bloom and their aroma was intoxicating. He walked over to a shadowed corner beneath a weeping willow, he laid down his cloak on the ground, sat down and took a long swig out of his flask. Everything looked so peaceful under the pale light of the moon, which shone through the glass panels on the ceiling. He was starting to feel a little drowsy from the alcohol when he saw a shadow across the artificial lake of the gardens, the figure walked around for a bit and finally got close enough for Jon to recognize it as Theon.

Theon hadn’t seen him yet, since he was partially hidden by the long branches of the willow.

“What you doing here?” he called from underneath the tree.

Theon looked around startled and finally saw Jon siting beneath the willow, he walked over and laid down next to him, Jon offered him his flask and Theon took it.

“Trying to get away from the feast. Who wants a hostage at party?” answered Theon with a shrug. Jon looked at him but remained silent, they just sat together, enjoying each other’s company. Jon felt weird, he had never thought he could feel comfortable with the Ironborn, much less find his presence appealing.

“What are you thinking about?” asked Theon after some minutes had passed. Jon looked at him, surprised “Nothing” he said, Robb, he thought. “You are quiet” observed the older boy. “I usually am” Jon answered.

They kept passing the flask back and forth until they ran out of wine, no further attempts to start conversation were made. Jon was starting to feel drowsy again, so he laid down with his head on Theon’s lap, the Ironborn thought the gesture odd, considering the nature of their relationship, but he let it pass. Tonight they were on an unspoken truce, they both needed company, so why ruin it? Tomorrow they could go back to despising each other.

“How curious, you can be nice” mumbled Jon with his eyes closed. Then he fell asleep on Theon’s lap.  
Jon woke up again after a short while. He looked at the man over him and suddenly realised that Theon was actually quite handsome, he had been aware of this before, but had never truly appreciated it. He was no Robb of course, but still. He was tall, very athletic, had alluring blue eyes and dark hair, like most Greyjoys. Plus, Jon wasn’t sure why, there was something weirdly attractive about his arrogant demeanor and his cocky smile. He could understand why more than one wench had fallen to his charms. Jon looked up and was surprised to find the Ironborn giving him that cursed smile. He stared into Theon’s eyes and blushed vividly when he caught himself wondering how he would look like naked. Quite good, he guessed.

Jon looked away, then turned and looked again at Theon, who was staring at the reflection of the moon in the artificial lake. Jon couldn’t tell if it was the wine, the fact that they were hidden from the rest of the world, or that it seemed the right thing to do. Or maybe, it simply was that deep down he had always wanted this, but was too divided by his hatred for Theon to ever voice it. Yet suddenly he found himself on top of the Ironborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is my first fanfic. This chapter is kind of a prologue.  
> I was debating with myself for a long while about whether or not to publish this. Thank you so much for taking the time to read it, please write a comment about what you think of it and if I should keep writing. It would really mean a lot to me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a short one.

Jon felt Theon go rigid underneath him. A second passed, two, three, and still Theo hadn’t returned the kiss. Gods what had he done? Yes, Theon wasn’t being an ass. But was that an invitation for Jon to jump his bones? His cheeks were burning as he pulled back from the Ironborn. He stood up and straightened his shirt.

His tongue felt so thick in his mouth he could barely mutter an apology. His eyes wandered around the gardens loosing focus as hot tears filled them, doing its best to avoid Theon. Jon turned around, his head bowed down, his heart in a fist, his pride in the ground. He took a moment to gather enough dignity so as not to run. He was just about to leave, pure shame running through every conscious part of his being, when he felt a hand making a grab for his. He heard Theon stand up behind him, his other hand softly turning Jon back around by the shoulder and holding him close to his chest.

Theon held him fast, his hand disconnected from Jon’s and came up to caress his dark curls, soothing him. Jon took a deep breath, the Ironborn’s chest, warm and hard against his cheek, smelled cool and salty, like the distant sea. For some reason, he felt safe in this embrace, this was his place. Theon looked down into his eyes and gave him his trademark cocky smile. Oddly enough, Jon found himself smiling back. Then, Theon lowered his hand and wiped away a tear from Jon’s eyelid, he looked intensely at it, as if it was a precious stone, and licked it from his finger in a quick motion. Jon felt himself leaning closer to Theon, finally fully giving in.

And then it was Theon who was on top of Jon. Their lips clashed together, softly at first, savoring each other. Theon’s lips were soft and tasted sweet and somewhat salty, both from the wine they had had earlier and Jon’s tear, or maybe it was the Ironborn’s natural taste, Jon couldn’t really tell. It was peculiar, Jon would have never guessed that the arrogant, petulant jerk who had devoted every second they had ever spend together to make him feel like an offensive mistake could be such a gentle lover.

Theon’s hands grabbed Jon by the waist, pulling him closer. He felt Theon’s tongue on his lips, asking permission to enter, Jon gave way and suddenly Theon’s tongue was down his throat. Jon’s hands, now tangled in Theon’s hair, gave an unconscious pull, making Theon grunt through the kiss. Their tongues wrestled for a minute, until Jon gave up, yielding to the Ironborn, whose hands roamed lower, cupping Jon’s ass, causing him to let out a wanton moan.

They broke the kiss and Jon whimpered softly, Theon’s absence taking him by surprise. Theon chuckled, finding Jon’s reaction rather amusing. Jon ignored him and watched as Greyjoy took off his shirt and grabbed his hands to place them on his bare chest. Jon briefly wondered if Theon shaved it, since he had almost no body hair. Under the pale light of the moon it looked like a statue carved out of ivory, nicely formed abs and perfectly smooth skin. It was warm and firm to the touch. Theon lowered Jon’s hands, putting them above the perfect “V” by his crotch.

“Is this all right?” Asked Theon just when he was about to place Jon’s hand on his cock. Jon thought it was funny how the Ironborn could be so nice and gentle in this situation. He nodded and unlaced Theon’s breeches.

Theon grabbed the hem of Jon’s shirt and pulled it off him, kissing him passionately once the shirt was on the ground. Jon’s skin was as pale as snow under the dim light. He went ahead and grabbed Theon’s erection, trying to stablish a rhythm, but he wasn’t used to angle. It was messy and inefficient and sweet at the same time. Theon actually laughed out loud at Jon’s lame attempt to get him off, it was just too cute. Theon took his hand, slowly guiding him up and down his shaft, as he looked deep into his eyes. They kept on like this until Jon was able to pump steadily. 

Jon was intentionally neglecting his own needs, focusing all his attention in the Ironborn, for some reason he really wanted to impress him, but it was getting more difficult by the minute. He was so hard it physically hurt. Theon seemed to read his thoughts and unlaced his breeches, liberating his rock hard cock. It was pure bliss when Greyjoy grabbed it, pleasure forming at the pit of his stomach and traveling up to back of his throat.

Jon was very close to coming, at this point he didn’t even care to seem like a green boy in front of Theon. “I just love to hear your shallow breathing in my ear, seeing you come apart in my hands” Whispered Theon in his ear. Jon just couldn’t take it anymore and he did come apart in his hands, spraying his hot seed over their bare chests.

Seeing Jon like this was also too much for Theon and he came after three quick strokes, his back curving away from Jon, a silent scream escaping his lips. Afterwards, they just laid quietly on the ground, Jon’s head resting on Theon’s chest. Their heartbeats soon slowed down, soothed by the swaying motion of the willow’s branches and each other’s proximity. Cuddling like that, amidst the flowers and the green grass they both fell sound asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning...

It was mid-morning when Jon woke up, sunlight pouring through the leafs of the tree above him. He sat up disoriented, a dull pain at the base of his skull. Next time he would definitely go easy on the wine. He looked down, apparently he had slept on the floor, which would explain his cramped back. He laid back down and wished he could go back to seep. Sleep, blessed drug that swallows the light of conscience, plunging us into the fathomless depths that make up the only safe realm where we can truly be free from the one sentence imposed to every man and woman ever to set foot on this earth, that high penalty of existing. Sadly enough, the gods had denied him such a simple request and he was forced back into the little vault of humanity that was Jon himself.  
He got up, there was no point in staying here. But where exactly was here? He remembered the feast last night, the earthy scent of the Glass Gardens almost overshadowed by the one of the blooming winter roses underneath a full moon, the swaying motion of the branches of the weeping willow and Theon´s hands exploring his back. Theon. Seven hells, Theon! It couldn’t have been a dream, as the fresh smelling shirt that didn’t belong to him and now laid in a heap by the trunk of the tree proved. Doing THAT with HIM had surely been a mistake, and it was a relief that Greyjoy hadn´t woken up next to him, otherwise it would have been very difficult to avoid him. Gods, their next conversation would surely be awkward.   
And still he couldn’t help feeling a little resented with Theon for not staying with him, for leaving him as the first lights of dawn turned pink the sky above, as if he were some serving wench from the kitchens, or an object intended for, and only for, Theon’s pleasure, that could be discarded and picked up again at will. That fucking Ironborn had a special talent for messing up his emotions.   
He set aside all thoughts concerning last night and focused in the much simpler task of breaking his fast. He left the gardens and headed for the kitchens, where he grabbed some bread and a greasy broth from a large pot and brought them to his chambers in the main keep. Once he was done, he laid in bed and soon fell asleep, dreaming with a large squids in a stormy sea and a beautiful white mare galloping along the beach.   
……….  
Hunger woke Theon up. He peeked out the window and realized it was almost noon, past time he broke his fast. He opened the door, with the intention of going down to the kitchens when he noticed a tray containing fresh bread and hard cheese, which someone had left near the entrance of his chambers. Probably Tansy or one of the other wenches he fucked regularly and had a fixation with pleasing him. He ate the austere meal and sat on his bed when he felt satisfied.   
He remembered this morning, Jon had looked so fragile tucked between his arms, his shallow breathing warming his chest, that he had briefly considered staying with him until he woke up, but of course, that would have been taking an unnecessary risk. Theon couldn’t have the gardener running around Winterfell, spreading tales about the two boys he had found cuddling under a tree on a warm summer morrow. Such gossip would compromise his authority and his position as heir of the Seastone Chair. But to tell the truth, he had, in fact, felt guilty about leaving the bastard like that, just like the morning dew left the blades of grass, unnoticed, unseen and unheard. Such a feeling was rather unfamiliar to Theon, especially given the situation. How many times hadn’t he left a wanton kitchen wench or a passionate stable boy in similar fashion?  
Still, he hoped he could talk to Snow soon and explain everything to him. Not that he had to, he didn’t owe any explanations to the bastard, but knowing how sensible he was, he was most likely very hurt. For some reason Theon couldn’t quite comprehend, he didn’t want any harm to come to Jon. Sure, he had always been an asshole with him, it wasn’t fair that a fucking bastard had the same privileges as Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon Greyjoy, heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands. But, as much as it annoyed him, he did feel identified with him somehow, Jon was an outsider in his own home, and try as he might he would never be a Stark, not to the eyes of the world. In some ways he even envied him. To the Starks, Snow would always be above him, even Robb saw Jon more as a brother than he would ever see Theon. That god damned bastard always found ways to tangle his thoughts.  
He thought about last night, and everything that had happened. It had really been amazing. Even though he would never admit it to anyone, it had been a long time since a lover had truly amused him, servant girls were all the same, even the inexperienced ones, and northern boys always behaved the alike, permanently afraid of their own desires, of what their peers might think of them if they were ever found with Theon, not knowing that a lot of them engaged in similar activities.  
But Jon was different. He had been nervous, nevertheless he hadn’t seemed afraid. Putting out that way was so unlike Jon that it had taken Theon totally out of base, yet he had found it very provoking, since he was usually the one to initiate intimate contact.   
Snow’s pale skin had looked so untainted in the moonlight, and it had felt so firm and warm under his hands, the muscles solid and well formed. Theon felt blood travel lower across his body, gathering and making him hard, as he thought about Jon’s unskilled hands going up and down his shaft, up and down and then up again, making him shudder with pleasure. Theon started stroking himself, ever so slowly at first, without even realizing it. Then quicker, more purposefully, when he imagined what he would do to the bastard next time he got a chance, which would surely be soon.   
He would bend Snow over his desk and tie him tight, until he hisses in distress, the rope chafing his immaculate skin. Then he would untie his belt, oh so slowly, and let the worn leather travel over his back, tracing his spine. And when the bastard finally realizes what’s going to happen, the first hit will come, making him scream in anger and frustration and arousal. He will keep going, slash after slash till hot tears stream down Jon’s face. And when the bastard is begging for it to stop, for Theon to bury himself in him and fuck him senseless, he will.   
He could already feel his erection entering that tight virgin hole in one quick, brutal stroke, making his legs tremble with the over stimulation and enticing a long scream from Snow, a scream that would echo into the night and state that Jon was his, now and forever.   
Theon stroked even faster when he thought about the sweet sounds that will escape Jon’s lips as he moves inside him, making the bastard see stars, and he won’t spend until the bastard comes apart with his cock untouched, a complete and shameless mess. Theon felt as the orgasm surged through him, racing across his body and with a scream he spilled hot seed over his bare belly.


End file.
